It's not like he's gay, or anything, because he totally isn't. He likes cougars, and the occasional cheerleader, but they're always female, and usually gorgeous. So when he happens to see Kurt in the shower one time after returning to the locker room late after a football practice and admires the soft curve of his behind, it's perfectly okay, because Kurt kind of looks like a girl from behind, so he is definitely not gay.
And it isn't gay at all when he starts leaving things behind in the locker room so he has to double back and get them after everyone but Kurt had left, because it isn't as though he is trying to catch another look at Kurt in the shower; it never even crosses his mind. It isn't as though he wants to look at the boy's subtle, almost-feminine curves, and pale, delicate skin, because he doesn't. He is absolutely not gay.
Even when he starts dreaming about his teammate, and the dreams take an unexpected, intimate turn, it doesn't mean he's gay. It just means that he is horny and needs a good woman to take those images from his mind. It means that Kurt needs to stop being so effeminate, putting these thoughts in his head every time he licks his delicate pink lips before he starts to sing or moves his hips like that while he dances. It doesn't mean that he's gay; it just means that Kurt is practically a girl.
When his fingers linger on Kurt's shoulder after a good-job slap on the back, it doesn't mean he wants to know what his skin feels like. When he loiters in the music room after glee club ends just so he can tell Kurt that his solo was wonderful, it doesn't mean that he wants to hear what the kicker's moans would sound like if he fucked him against the piano. When he's tipsy and he kisses Kurt at his birthday party, it doesn't mean he wants Kurt to kiss him back; and it sure as hell doesn't mean he's disappointed when he doesn't.
It isn't gay when he accepts Kurt's invitation to practice for glee at Kurt's house, and it isn't gay when they sit on his bed and sing a love song together. But he falters when Kurt looks at him with blue-green eyes that are framed by his long, dark lashes. Is it gay when he asks Kurt bluntly if he wants to make out? He isn't absolutely sure anymore. Is it gay when Kurt's lips experimentally brush his, cautiously parting and moving against his own much more confident ones?
These thoughts fly from his head as Kurt's tongue darts between his lips and entwine with his own, both fighting for dominance in a kiss that is so passionate that neither want it to stop. When they finally break for air and he realises that he is lying on top of another guy, he's still pretty sure that he's not gay. And when Kurt reaches up with trembling fingers and brushes softly his cheek, he's pretty sure he's not gay even as his eyes flutter closed, because he likes girls... right?
Kurt starts calling him Noah when they're alone together, which seems to be more and more often, and he's pretty sure he likes it. No one else notices how they look at each other for too long sometimes, or that his eyes smoulder as he watches Kurt walk away. Occasionally they steal kisses when no one is around, and sometimes he forgets he's supposed to like girls afterward.
Sometimes he dares to touch Kurt's hair, which is soft and smells like raspberries. Kurt looks at him strange when he does this; his eyes huge and innocent, waiting for him to make the next move. But he never does. Because he totally isn't gay, remember?
He doesn't object when Kurt runs his hands down his chest, mumbling something about his dad not coming home for several hours, but he doesn't do anything but kiss him, silencing those thoughts. Because as soon as Kurt says it, suggests it, or initiates it, he knows he won't be able to stop himself from having hot, amazing sex with another guy, and that scares the fuck out of him, because he's not gay.
Kurt is frustrated, and he knows that, but he can't bring himself to admit that he wants it as much as Kurt does. He knows that he won't be able to hold out forever, but he's scared shitless about when he won't be able to.
"I thought you were supposed to be the biggest man-whore in Lima," Kurt says almost snidely one afternoon while they cuddled together on the sofa in Kurt's living room. His eyes are determined as he glares up at the linebacker from where he is curled against his chest. "Why haven't we... well, you know."
Kurt's tactless question makes him pause, but he finally answers with the truth. "'Cause I'm not gay," he says, but regrets it as soon as he sees the look on Kurt's face. He looks like someone has torn his heart out for a half-second before he plasters a fake smile on his face as if it's nothing.
"Oh. Well, then," is all Kurt says in reply. They don't say anything else for a long time, and the feeling of hurt remains between them, and it pulls at his heartstrings.
The next few days are filled with strenuous football practices, and he's almost happy that he hasn't had to talk to Kurt alone, but for some reason he feels empty. He doesn't know what to do, or how to feel. He thinks they might be having their first fight, and he has convinced himself that he doesn't know why. He's convinced himself that he was just telling the truth, and that he hadn't lied because he was scared. But his conviction to his story breaks when Kurt corners him in the locker room, his face contorted into a look of agony.
"You can't do this, Noah," Kurt whimpers, and he's sure his heart is breaking. "You can't... lead me on like this. Either you like me, or you don't like me. Which is it?" Kurt's chest is heaving and his eyes are filled with unshed tears.
"I like you," he insists, his hands reaching toward Kurt as though to pull the smaller boy into his arms. Kurt flinches away from his touch, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall. "I like you a lot."
"You can't have it both ways," Kurt says, his bottom lip quivering. "You can't like me like that and not be gay. It doesn't work like that."
He is silent for a moment. He's still pretty sure he's not gay, but... "Then convert me," he decides out loud, and Kurt stares at him incredulously.
"What?"
He leans in real close to Kurt's ear and whispers, "I'm not gay now, but maybe you can change my mind." Kurt's eyes light up, and his heart starts racing. He's still scared out of his mind, but he thinks that maybe it'll be worth it.
So when Kurt kisses him so hard his lips go numb, and they stumble into the lockers, he is still not convinced he's gay. When they grind their hips together and gasp at the sensation, it's not because he's a faggot, because he isn't. When fevered kisses turn to groping and yanking on clothing, it's not because he's in love, either.
"This probably isn't the best place to do this," Kurt manages to gasp even as a wet mouth clamps over the pulse point at his throat and gently sucks the skin between sharp teeth. "Someone could... see... oh..."
"You're right, let's... uh..." He pauses, trying to think of a more suitable place but failing. He looks at Kurt and grins as he finally forms a coherent thought. "You want it at your place or mine?" Kurt grins cheekily.
"Mine. My dad's at the shop all afternoon."
The car ride isn't at all comfortable, as neither of them want to be the first to say something. Their breathing has levelled in the seven minutes it takes to drive from the school to Kurt's house, but nevertheless Kurt leads his guest inside the familiar foyer and down the stairs to his basement bedroom. Kurt closes the door behind them and they stare at each other, both aware of the agonizing silence. Kurt seems to be the braver of the two, because he finally breaks it.
"Ready to be converted?" he says, putting his hands on his hips and attempting a confident smile.
For some reasons he feels as though it's his first time all over again when it's Kurt with his arms around his neck, deepening a kiss he can't remember starting. He's shaking like a leaf and gripping Kurt's hips like a drowning man clutches a life preserver, but Kurt murmurs words of comfort to him and he calms down, letting himself get lost in Kurt's lips.
He finds himself on Kurt's bed, which is soft with white silk sheets that match the rest of his room. His skin is on fire as Kurt pushes his shirt over his head and nips at his collar bone, his breaths coming in short gasps. Designer clothes fall to the floor along with a dingy t-shirt and department-store jeans, but when he feels Kurt's hands at the waistband of his boxers he hesitates, wide-eyed.
"Kurt..." he says gruffly, and Kurt stares at him with huge blue-green eyes at are the epitome of innocence. "I... this... I can't..." He's panting, and can't seem to find the words. Kurt has a look of understanding on his face and kisses him gently, his hands moving to his face and caressing it carefully.
"You can," Kurt whispers, before he's pushed down into the silken sheets and his boxer shorts are being pushed off his thin hips. He's kissing Kurt and it's marvellous, and then there's nothing but skin between them and he gasps, not knowing how this can feel so fucking right.
They grind their hips together in a frenzied rhythm, and it's not even really sex but they don't care. Kurt's making low, deep, masculine moans and it's the most beautiful sound in the world to him, if only because he's never heard anything quite like it before. Then Kurt comes all over their stomachs, and he can only watch in fascination as the beautiful creature beneath him writhed in ecstasy after hardly being touched.
Kurt's panting his so erotic that he almost comes too, but that fear pangs in his stomach and he holds back. Blue-green eyes stare at him and cherry-red lips part slightly as a tongue darts out to moisten them. "That didn't do it for you, huh?" Kurt rasps. Then, he smiles.
He is pushed back into the silky sheets, and Kurt lowers himself between his legs. His smile falters and he stares at the erection in front of him nervously, as if unsure of what he was about to do. A guiding hand nestles itself in his soft, messy hair, and Kurt's tongue flicks out and licks; the moan it entices encourages him to gradually take more of him in his mouth and suck gently.
It doesn't take Kurt long to make him come with that gorgeous mouth of his, and he is decidedly proud of himself once he does. He wipes his mouth ungracefully and sidles up beside his lover, snuggling into his chest.
"Are you gay now?" he asks quietly, his eyes closed and his breathing slowing down.
As Noah Puckerman watches another guy fall asleep in his arms without waiting for an answer, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could quite possibly be gay.